


Toast

by hellostarlight20



Series: Shall We Dance [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Nine in a tux, Romance, Rose in a dress, baby steps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>@caedmonfaith’s 10 fic challenge for <a href="http://hellostarlight20.tumblr.com/post/140853165249/illusion-divine-the-doctor-and-his-rose">this gorgeous Nine/Rose manip</a> based on 10 words.</p><p>Nine and Rose travel in the TARDIS to all sorts of new locales. Including a sun festival that requires fancy dress. Set during season 1 post-Dalek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toast

**Author's Note:**

> Toast: to be doomed, ruined, or in trouble

Rose stood in the kitchen, leaning against the long stone counter, head tilted upward.

She watched the ceiling melt from one gorgeous nebula into another. The TARDIS didn’t always show her such wonders, but in the quiet moments between adventures, She often did. Sometimes Rose asked the Doctor about what she saw and listened to his voice wash over her with facts and stories, myths and legends.

Today Rose ate a ham and cheese sandwich as she basked in the wonders of the universe. She learned early on to grab something to eat before they exited the TARDIS. If where ever they landed had food, she and the Doctor either ran, therefore missing out on the offerings, or the offerings weren’t edible for her.

So she normally grabbed a quick sandwich and glass of water before they headed out to their next adventure. And one last stop at the loo…because of all the running. 

There were times she and the Doctor did manage to enjoy the food, but they were few and far between. The bad guys never offered them tea and the good guys rarely had tea to offer. Sometimes, however, they simply enjoyed themselves.

As Rose hoped they did today at the closing of the sun festival on Helios-something.

“Ready?” the Doctor asked.

Rose choked on her bite of sandwich. “Wha—” she swallowed, coughed, swallowed again and hoped she didn’t swallow her tongue.

Oh dear God what was this beautiful man wearing?

A tux.

Her Doctor (not _her_ Doctor) wore a tux. The material stretched across his broad shoulders and the white shirt beneath brought out the ice blue of his eyes. He frowned, expressive face creasing as he crossed the kitchen to where she stood at the counter and tilted her chin.

“All right?”

She was toast. Pure and simple. How was she supposed to make it through an entire festival with him looking like that?

Rose mutely nodded. She cleared her throat and…well, she stared. It was unavoidable, really. Anyone in their right mind would.

“You changed.” Yes, brilliant use of her words and keen observational skills.

The Doctor smirked. She wanted to kiss those lips, the corner just there—halfway between his mouth and his mole. She admirably refrained. Barely. He turned to walk out, apparently thinking this conversation was over.

Rose admired his bum instead. Oh, so very nice.

“Said it was formal, didn’t I?” he shot back. She instantly raised her eyes to meet his. What was he talking about? “Can’t go in looking like a navvy.”

Rose grinned, purposely (very definitely purposely) letting her tongue peak at the side of her mouth. She did not miss how his gaze flicked there. Or how those beautiful blue eyes darkened.

Pushing off the counter, she closed the distance between them. Swayed her hips and let the blue dress flow around her legs. The Doctor’s eyes drifted down, face intent—intense. His gaze lingered on her legs then slowly drifted back up. Inch by inch and she felt his look from the tip of her toes to the top of her head.

Straight up her spine, the knowing tingled along her nerves and settled low and warm in her belly.

“Your tie’s crooked,” she whispered.

All humor, all teasing fled. Caught in his ice-blue gaze, she stared at him. Drowning. Rose wanted to stay there. Wanted to drown in that gaze, in the feel of his hands now settled over her hips. Wanted to immerse herself in the Doctor—his touch, the feel of his body against hers. His taste.

“There.” The word barely reached her ears. Rose swallowed hard and stepped back.

His hands tightened on her hips for a heartbeat, a loud, pounding beat of her singular heart. She wanted his cool touch on her bare skin and wondered if he knew that. If he could tell from the way she watched him. His hands fell from her body.

“Ready?” He asked, voice gruff.

Rose subtly cleared her throat. Grinned widely. He grinned back, his entire face transformed. She wanted to run her fingers over his cheek, touch them to his mouth. Instead she stepped back.

“For a festival on a planet with 24 hours of sunlight?” She grinned wider. “Of course!”

“Their days are longer,” he said as they exited the kitchen and walked the short distance to the console room. “They have 24 hours of sunlight during the long season, but their days are—”

“Thirty hours.” Rose nodded and carefully stepped along the grating. “I remember.”

“Should’ve waited to put your heels on,” he said gruffly even as he helped her across the flooring. But he didn’t release her arm as they navigated toward the door. Steadied her with each step.

“Where was I supposed to put them on?” Rose huffed as he opened the TARDIS door.

They stepped into the warm, sunny day and she lifted her leg to show him her shoes. They were a gorgeous pair of silver 3-inch heels with intricate straps that crisscrossed her ankles. And comfortable, oh so comfortable.

“Hmph.”

But when Rose looked up, he didn’t look grumpy or put out or smug about inefficient Human footwear. The Doctor didn’t roll his eyes like he often did over her little humanisms. No, he looked like he wanted to hold her leg, run his fingers over the back of her knee, along the inside of her thigh.

Rose swallowed. Hard. Toast. She was so done for. She wanted him to, oh she wanted him to exactly that, run those fingers along the back of her leg, the inside of her thigh.

Struggling to push those thoughts right out of her head, she latched onto any other thought. Unfortunately her next thought involved grabbing his tie and tugging him toward her. Those thoughts crowded with thoughts of how he so recently looked at her across the conference table at 10 Downing Street.

And the way he held her as that stupid cabinet turned and flew through the air.

Resolutely pushing those feelings away, far, far to the back of her mind under lock and key, Rose cleared her throat and tried not to be embarrassed. Or at least hope his ridiculous Superior Time Lord Biology didn’t pick up on Human arousal.

Rose had a feeling she wasn’t that lucky.

Then again, she thought and slowly lowered her leg, unable to look away from the Doctor. She managed to meet this man. This wonderful man who showed her the stars and taught her how to run hand-in-hand with him.

Maybe her luck wasn’t so abysmal.

“Where—” Rose cleared her throat.

Her eyes slid from his and closed for a moment. She needed to get herself back under control. Because she knew he knew how much she wanted him. And knew he probably didn’t feel the same. Silly Human, her.

“Where’d we park?” She forced the words out of her mouth even as she struggled to control herself.

Toast. Totally.

“Dead-end alley off the main market,” he said in that same amenable voice that imparted knowledge, shared chips, and acted just fine. Everything was just fine.

His hand slipped into hers and Rose marginally relaxed. It felt right, his touch. The ease with which they held hands, the intimacy of it despite the…the _commonality_ of it all.

They exited the alley—located between a bakery and a convenience store—and Rose stopped. “Blimey.”

The alley was normal, nothing special about the tall stone buildings and dark passage. But the main street. That looked phenomenal. Stunning. Absolutely gorgeous and modern but artsy and so very colorful. Not in a random splash of too much paint sort of way but in that perfect swirl of complimenting color.

Rose knew she could spend forever staring at each intricately decorated building.

The crowds moved in every direction. All dressed up in bright colors that rivaled the buildings’, all moving amongst the equally dressed-up vendors and roving hawkers. Rose looked up and down the street, not sure what she wanted to do first, where she wanted to go, what there was to even do.

“This way.” The Doctor’s voice was so soft, so gentle, she jerked at the feel of it brushing along her temple.

She met his gaze and the warmth of his blue eyes took her breath away. His smile was as soft as his voice had been and Rose fought to remember this wasn’t a fantasy. Still, her answering smile was a slight curve of her lips, not her normal teasing grin.

“This is gorgeous,” she breathed.

“Knew you’d like it.” He beamed, and the moment shattered.

Not shattered. The Doctor took her hand and tugged her down the street. Altered. Rose didn’t know how but sensed it in the way he looked at her, in the way he smiled. Even in the way he held her hand.

He seemed to have a specific destination in mind so Rose willingly let him lead. The warm air closed in on her in the crowd, but she didn’t mind much. She enjoyed the crowd, feeling equal parts lost in it and in their own bubble, just her and the Doctor.

Thoughts like that were dangerous. She cleared her throat but didn’t remove her hand from his. Physically couldn’t make herself do so.

“Anything not okay for me to eat here?” Rose asked as the enticing scents of spicy meat and hot beverages drifted along with them.

“Should be okay.” He nodded toward one of the vendors. “But we’ll check each one before. Just in case.”

Rose nodded. He was thoughtful like that, the little things he did to make sure she didn’t end up sick. She squeezed his hand and grinned up at him. And for the briefest moment thought she felt his answering...what?

Warmth? Affection? Rose didn’t know, but it flowed through her, alternately heating her blood and making her gooey inside. As if he did, indeed, return her feelings. However, as quickly as it moved through her, the feeling dissipated.

Not all at once, no—the lingering warmth stayed but the intensity of it slowly bled into the ether.

She tried to shake it off, tried to pretend it never happened or she never felt it or it wasn’t what she hoped. But a part of her, the part that never listened to logic, clung to that hope. And made her lean her head against the Doctor’s arm and sigh in contentment.

“Here.” He stopped and nodded toward a small shop with a brightly painted door. Reds and golds splashed with starbursts beckoned them. “First stop.”

The Doctor pushed open the door and a cheery bell tinkled announcing the arrival. His hand slipped from hers and moved to the small of her back, ushering her inside. Once more Rose failed to ignore his touch.

But then she meant what she said in Number 10, looking at him across that conference table, Harriet Jones off to the side. She meant every word. And wondered, even now weeks later, if he meant his. Or what he meant.

Because to her, _I could save the world but lose you_ sounded very much like…

The slightly cooler air made her shiver or maybe it was that memory. Rose closed her eyes and so clearly saw the Doctor’s face as he said that. That hard wistfulness and distant longing. Always a contradiction, her Doctor. (Not hers.)

“Cold?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted truthfully. But still wished she brought the pashmina with her, maybe had the Doctor carry it in one of his pockets. She cleared her throat and tried to think of something to say.

“A photo shop?” Rose asked. Again with the keen observational skills…sheesh.

But she looked around, scanning the framed pictures on the walls, the various lighting and backdrops used. She raised her hand to touch one of them, the shiny multiple dimension quality of them looked very much like how Rose envisioned the paintings in Harry Potter.

“You—” The Doctor cleared his throat. “You said you wanted a—a record.” He cleared his throat again. “Of our adventures.”

It burst through her, her affection for her Doctor. Affection, admiration, _adoration_. It warmed her from the inside out and spread along her nerves to make her fingers tingle. Under no circumstances could she control her smile. It, too, burst from her.

The Doctor’s shoulders eased and his answering smile lightened his entire face. Rose crossed the room and hugged him tight. He hugged her back, large cool hands on the small of her back, holding her close.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Come on,” he said, voice once more gruff. “Let’s get this over with.”

Rose knew better and grinned wider. She smiled brightly and her tongue peaked out of the side of her mouth. The Doctor’s fingers flexed against her back at the sight, his gaze on her mouth. And that warmth burst through her once more, spreading out from her heart and making her fingers and toes tingle with excitement, pleasure.

After, with the photo printed on never-fade something-something paper she didn’t bother to listen to, Rose noticed how he watched her. How his gaze wasn’t directed at the whatever fancy-schmancy camera the Helionan used.

The Doctor looked down at her.

Rose smiled at the camera, her body pressed close to his, her hand resting on the lapel of his tux, but the Doctor...he looked down at her with the softest, most penetrating look she’d ever seen on anyone.

Her heart skipped and her breath rushed through her.

“Ready?” he asked and held out his hand.

Rose looked up, emotion choking her, a dozen feelings of warmth and love and awareness and so many things that crashed through her. She wanted to ask a thousand questions. But she swallowed them all down and nodded.

Carefully, movements slow and steady, she slipped the picture into his inside pocket. Patting it, she met his gaze and stepped back.

“Ready.”

“Fantastic.” The Doctor took her hand and tugged her out of the small shop. “What do you want to see next, Rose Tyler?”

His tongue caressed the words as if her name was the most erotic sound in the universe. Rose shivered and looked up at him.

“Something—” her smile widened—“fantastic.”


End file.
